A Covid hangover discovery: recovery is a process, not an event
Testing negative has not been a passport to full recovery. While a negative test is good news, it is not the end of the movie.
After I tested negative on October 12, then returned to work on the 18th, almost clear of symptoms, I thought I was done. Over. Finished. Graduated. Healthy again. Free to move on to the rest of my life. Not quite. Like an uninvited guest at a house party, Covid does not leave because you want it out of your life. Instead, it hangs around eating all the snacks and chugging down your best wine like a thirsty bear. You want it to go, but it lingers, oblivious to all your hints. The tenacity of this virus hit me over the past week as I tried to resume my usual domestic chores, like putting on storm windows.
Now the following could be dismissed as the whimpering of a spoiled member of the privileged class. Guilty as charged. At least I have a house. My partner-in-crime and I own a 120-year-old red-brick house in Peterborough, a town in Southern Ontario. 2 and a half stories, 9 rooms, a treed street in a mellow neighbourhood close to downtown. An old house, with an accretion of idiosyncrasies that need constant attention or in my case, constant avoidance. For the past 23 years, I have dutifully removed and installed my dilapidated wooden storm windows every spring and fall. This chore takes about 3-4 hours if I knuckle down and do it all at once. “Doing the windows” is a chore I loathe. But in our climate, it has to be done. It is the same drudgery every year. So over the past few years, I have done this chore in stages, perhaps taking an hour or so a day to get the job done.
While “doing the windows” requires some lifting, some ladder climbing and a lot of carrying awkward loads up and down stairs to and from the basement, it is hardly heavy labour or even the equivalent of a moderate workout. Without sufficient gratitude, I have to confess that this chore has become a timely semi-annual fitness test. The windows do not change. But this year they somehow grew heavier. While I need to accept that I am 23 years older today than when I first did the windows when we moved in back in the spring of 2000, this year was different. This time I had to sit down frequently to catch my breath. Large windows that I used to heft without thinking required a lot more strength and a lot more recovery time. Old age or the ghost of my slight case of Covid? Or both? For how long? Is there a cure for either?
This year - for the first time - I skipped closing the cabin on West Bay, Chandos. It involves taking off the screens, putting on the shutters and closing down all systems and moving ramp, dock, float and water toys. Moving seasonal items to protected areas. It is partly the aging process. It was Saturday, October 7th, Thanksgiving weekend and I chose to sleep at home while the other 8 did the deeds. Happens!